Drive
by svunatic
Summary: Fuck their complicated past all to hell, because the only thing that made it complicated was that they loved each other and weren't allowed to.  But now, they are and he needs it.  As fresh as a start he'll ever get with Olivia. Season 13.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story is set in Season 13, around the time David Hayden comes into the picture. I was inspired by the songs 'Wonderwall' by Oasis and 'Fall for You' by Secondhand Serenade, and if you haven't heard them before you should definitely give them a listen because they are both great songs. I do not own L&O:SVU, and if I did, let's just say Seasons 13 and 14 would be very different! Well, enjoy! And please review; it only takes a second.**

Elliot drove with a blinding purpose through the crowded Manhattan streets, growing more frustrated with each yellow cab he saw, with each fat raindrop blurring his windshield until it was one raging ocean pummeling the glass. His knuckles were white with the force he gripped the wheel with, his jaw tense with the decision he should've made a long time ago.

_Go tell Olivia._

The voice was insistent in his head, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was too late, that Olivia had realized what an ass he was and found someone else. Someone who could control their anger. Someone who didn't leave her without a word for five months.

He inhaled deeply, flexing his newly barren ring finger against the taut leather of the wheel, willing himself to calm down and just drive. That's all he could do, just drive and hope she would be home. Hope that Olivia would forgive him for what he did and listen to him when he told her how much he regretted it all.

Especially not telling her sooner.

But he knew there was a fat chance Olivia would forgive him after what he did, and she would probably slam the door in his face before he could even get a word out. Hell, he would be lucky if she even opened the goddamned door after she realized who it was standing on the other side.

He needed to tell Olivia why he shot that girl. How petrified he was that Jenna would have shot Olivia in that single cramped minute of his life. The last minute of Jenna's life. The firstminute of his life where it rang loud and clear why he came to work and did what he did every single day.

Olivia. It was all because of her.

_Everything._

And then he pulled the trigger because he couldn't lose Olivia, and then he was terrified because he realized he had to leave.

He lost her anyway. He lost Olivia because she would never forgive him for taking a girl's life and he felt like he owed her the decency to never show his face again. He ignored her texts, silenced the ringing whenever her face lit up the screen of his phone, and told himself Olivia was better off without him. And eventually she stopped calling him.

He missed her. He missed looking up from his desk and seeing her bent over, finishing up her fives. He missed the way their steps always fell into a rhythm when they were walking on the cracked pavement of Manhattan. He missed how with her, he felt unstoppable. Because even if they didn't catch the perp soon enough, or if they were too late to save a vic, she was there. She was always there standing next to him, and she gave him renewed hope that there would be a next time, that they would always have another chance to make things better for someone else.

Next time.

Those words haunted him, and he prayed to God that with Olivia, there was a next time. He didn't care if it took forever, he would make Olivia see that he was sorry. He would tell her he loved her, even if she didn't say it back. She just needed to see that for once, he was there. Just to see.

The rain pelted the windshield, and he drove.

/

Olivia sat curled up on her couch under a blanket, taking advantage of the cozy, rainy night and watching 'The Breakfast Club' on Netflix. It was one of her favorite movies and she was about halfway through when her iPhone buzzed.

Groaning because it was most likely Cragen, she paused the movie and reached over to pick up her glowing phone.

When she saw whose name was next to the little green square her heart literally skipped a few beats.

And when she saw what the message said she thought she would faint.

"I'm outside your door. I know it's sudden but I really need to talk to you Liv.

-El"

She got up and started to pace in front of the TV, anxiety and surprisingly anger in full force. Here? Outside? Now? A million questions assaulted her at once, questions that she tried to bury in her mind because she knew that they would stay unanswered so long that Elliot was never coming back.

But here he was, showing up at her apartment at 8 o' clock on a rainy Thursday night out of the blue. Probably expecting her to fall into his arms and accept his bullshit apologies. Probably expecting her to tell him that she missed him and confess her undying love for him.

Fuck Elliot and his arrogant little ass if he thought she would throw himself at him after the hell he put her through when he left. Fuck him for assuming she hadn't found someone else during the months he was gone. Because she had, and David was a perfectly respectable man who treated her right.

Olivia closed her eyes. She tried to quiet the persistent little voice in her head that she knew always caught her in the half-assed lies she spoonfed herself.

_He's not Elliot. _

It was as simple as that.

_Shit._ He was actually here. She threw her phone onto the couch, abandoning all thoughts of the movie, ran her hand through her hair, and made her way to the door.

Olivia's hands were shaking and she didn't know why she was so scared to open the door. He left her for godsake! He should be the scared one!

She reminded herself she was furious with him and looked through the peephole.

She gasped, because Elliot Stabler stood on the other side and he looked so normal. Like the old Elliot. His arms were clasped in front of him and he wore an almost indifferent expression on his face. But Olivia knew him too well not to see the tension locked in his jaw, the puffs of air he kept letting go, and the way his blue eyes were tired. But alert.

Olivia took a deep breath and opened the door.

She faced Elliot, and his eyes were on hers. His whole complexion transformed when he saw her.

"Liv," he croaked, and a shy smile pulled at his mouth as he gave her the once over.

She felt so happy just seeing him she could cry. But she had done enough of that the past few months.

"Hey," she smiled a little, and she saw his shoulders visibly loosen.

"Can I come in?"

She let him.

**A/N: So, what do you guys think? Please leave a review and give me any suggestions, as I am not completely sure what direction I want to take this! It only takes a second... :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, this chapter is really angsty so prepare yourselves. The chapter is all from Elliot's point of view and next chapter will probably be just Olivia's. I listened to the song 'You Found Me' by The Fray while writing this, so give it a listen. As always, review and tell me what you think at the end!**

Elliot walked into her apartment, comforted slightly by the familiarity of it all. He didn't know why he was expecting something to be drastically, irreversibally different about the place, but it wasn't.

And Olivia.

She stood near the counter, eyes on him. Waiting for him to say something.

What could he say that would make her see?

He cleared his throat and moved a little closer to Olivia. She looked so cute with her Looney Tunes pajama pants on and hair clipped up.

He loved when her hair was up.

"Look, Olivia," he begun, aware of her gaze held steadily on him. His sentence drifted off, because he didn't know what to say. Maybe he should've planned it before he sent her that text.

He looked at her then, and her eyes were so sad. They were tired and sad and he felt like an asshole for making her like that.

She looked at him straight on, crossing her arms. "Elliot, I know what you're gonna say. And I know that you're sorry and I..." She bit her bottom lip, and he felt a pang of guilt because her eyes were filling up.

He wanted to hold her.

Instead, he let out a breath, frustrated because that would probably scare her and because he didn't know how to phrase what he wanted to say so badly. "Liv, you don't know how terrible I feel about what I did and how guilty I felt. I was ashamed and scared that everyone would hate me because I killed Jenna so I left. I didn't know what to do." He looked up, meeting Olivia's eyes. Pleading with her to see things from his perspective.

"I know." She was straining her lips to keep from crying and she looked away from him, crossing her arms tighter.

He had such an urge to just hold her tight in his arms, because then she would see. Then Olivia would see that in his arms she was okay. He would make sure she knew he would never leave again. Ever.

Because all that was worth fighting for was standing right in front of him.

He gathered up his courage.

"I missed you, Liv. And I'm sorry for not being able to face you before today. I'm so sorry."

She snapped at his words. "You have no idea, do you?" She was walking towards him, advancing.

He didn't know what she was accusing him of.

"You have no fucking idea what you put me through Elliot! Don't you dare say you missed me, because you have no fucking idea."

And then she crumpled, breaking in front of him. No tears were falling, but a sob escaped from her throat.

She left him standing there, almost running to the bathroom.

He heard the door shut.

This time, Olivia left him.

How did he manage to fuck things up so bad?

Before he knew it, he was standing on the other side of her bathroom door.

She was crying so hard in there.

"Olivia," he pleaded. When all he heard were loud sobs, he didn't hesitate to try the doorknob. She left it unlocked.

When he opened the door, he had to suck in a breath at the sight he saw. Olivia was sat on the floor, knees drawn up close to her face, crying loud, desperate sobs into her pajama pants.

Elliot felt his insides shattering into a million pieces at the sight of this crumpled up, broken Olivia.

He would _never_ forget it.

He would never let himself forget it, because it would always serve as a reminder to him that he could never let things get so bad again.

He wanted to cry when Olivia lifted her face, red and puffy with tears. "Go away," she choked out, but a sob shook her voice and she just cried harder.

He moved to crouch down near Olivia. "No. I won't leave you like this." His voice came out rougher than he intended.

"Why not? You've already left me once, what's one more time?" She was staring him straight in his eyes, and he sucked in a breath at Olivia's sharp words.

He deserved it.

He tried to hand her a tissue from the box on the toilet but she stubbornly refused.

All of a sudden, her eyes froze on his left hand. Olivia's eyes welled up all over again.

"You left her." It was a statement, not a question. Olivia looked back up at him, face wet, nose running.

"We got divorced. For good," he focused his eyes on the fibers of the blue rug they were sitting on.

He felt her eyes boring holes into his jacket he hadn't taken off when he first came in.

"And what did you expect when you came here exactly, Elliot?" Her voice lowered, stronger than it was a few seconds ago. "What did you think, since Kathy was out of the picture you could waltz in here and sweep me off my feet and I would be okay with it?" She was incredulous.

Was that what he thought?

Before he could say anything, Olivia stood. "You know what, just do both of us a favor and leave now, because apparently that's what you do best." She looked at him, and the fight drained from her voice when she said her next words.

"Give Eli a hug for me."

And then she looked at him one last time, lip quivering, and he was struck by how exhausted she looked.

She left the bathroom, and he heard a seperate door slam, her bedroom.

Elliot sat there, on Olivia Benson's blue bathroom rug and processed what just happened.

God, he messed up. _Really fucking bad._

He groaned, loud, and he felt like punching the wall in. Damn him and his angry self for screwing up his relationship with Olivia.

After sitting there for a good fifteen minutes to calm himself down, he slowly walked over to her shut bedroom door.

He listened, and at least she wasn't crying anymore. He had the strange notion she was holding her breath.

"Olivia, you don't have to open the door. But please listen to me. I deserved everything you said to me and I know I'm a coward and a fuckup and I'm so sorry I left you and I'm just really fucking sorry." He sighed, waiting for her to reply.

He wondered if she was standing directly on the other side of the door.

"That's what I came here to tell you, and I hope you can forgive me, even if it takes time. But please, Liv, just know how much I miss you everyday."

She didn't say anything.

He sighed.

"Goodnight, Olivia. Don't forget to lock the door when I leave."

He stood there until he heard a small, almost inaudible creak in the floorboards. Elliot walked out of Olivia's apartment, shutting the door.

And he waited until he heard the lock click. Then he left.

The rain pounded him as he walked out of Olivia's building, and he found it fitting that even the weather was punishing him.

He stood there for a long time after that, just letting the rain crash against him and soak him.

He let it really soak him, until his whole body was numb. He watched the cars and the taxis pass by, and it felt like his whole life just came apart. Just completely broke and ripped and shattered into a million undiscernible pieces that were nothing.

_Nothing._

A man with an umbrella and a briefcase shoved past him, glancing back with a quick sorry, not even bothering to ask if Elliot was okay.

He watched that man until he disappeared into a taxi, and he stood there watching the yellow blur until he couldn't tell if the wetness clouding his eyes was rain or tears.

_Did it really matter, in the end?_

He got into his car, carrying his doubts and heavy feet with the slowness of a man who didn't know who he was anymore.

He made sure to give Eli a hug that night.

**A/N: So I hope that chapter conveyed all the feelings I wanted it to. Review and tell me what you thought! It only takes a second out of your day and makes mine! Also, feel free to rant about last Wednesday's episode, "Presumed Guilty"... Whose hand do you think it was? (Obviously I hope it was Elliot's, but I have a terrible feeling it was either Cassidy or ADA Barba. Wahhh.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in this chapter! As always review at the end!**

A week had passed since Elliot showed up at Olivia's apartment, and she sat at a bar with David. It was one of those 'classy' places where everyone pretended to be engrossed in what they were doing, but were secretly eyeing up who you were with, what you were wearing. David said he knew the owner, and Olivia had laughed and went along with it, but secretly she hated it. She hated the stupid tequila shots he kept ordering and she hated the stupid bartender who kept smiling at her and she hated how everything was perfect but somehow she found fault in every detail.

She hated how despite everything, despite the shit he put her through and their complicated relationship, she still wanted it to be Elliot sitting next to her. And she hated that he made it so easy, so damned easy, to simply choose him. That night when he showed up at her front door, Olivia could've done just that. She could've given in to Elliot and let herself be happy, because she knew deep down that Elliot was the only one. He always was.

But that would mean giving into herself.

"Olivia?"

She jerked her head up, and David was looking at her with genuine concern. Which of course made her feel guilty because he really was a great guy who actually cared about her. But she couldn't keep leading him on if all of her wasn't present in their relationship.

Olivia smiled at him and it wasn't fake, but she sensed he knew something was up. "I'll be right back," she grabbed her purse and headed for the bathroom. Once inside the confines of the artificial blossomy smelling ladies' room she leaned against the countertop and exhaled.

She was tired of everything. Tired of pretending she was having a good time with David when there was another man on her mind entirely. Tired of feeling like she was going through the motions of her life and her job, when really she wasn't feeling anything lately. Ever since Elliot left she was barely holding it together if she was being honest with herself. Sex with David was nice. But it was just that. Nothing more, but nothing less, either. A kind of equilibirum that gave her the illusion she was in love but eventually, it faded. The most she'd felt in months was when Elliot had shown up that night and she lost it, breaking down in front of him.

It was the first time she had ever let him see her cry. Not just tears in the eyes kind of crying, because that happened plenty of times over the years; but full out, ugly sobbing. How ironic that the first time it wasn't for a victim, or anything to do with the job, for that matter.

She sighed, staring at her frowning reflection in the mirror. After fixing herself up a little and walking over to the door of the bathroom, she checked her phone and saw she had a missed call.

From Elliot.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she slid the icon over to call him back, without giving herself a second to think up a reason to ignore his call like she'd been doing for months before.

He picked up on the second ring.

"Liv," he sounded almost relieved on the other end, his voice gruff but gentle. Like every other aspect of him.

"Hey," she breathed, heart still pounding out of control, "about the other night-"

"Don't, Olivia. I know I deserved everything you said, and I would be mad at me too if I were you, believe me. I should've called before I came over but I couldn't wait any longer and, god! I'm so sorry-," he was rushing, probably afraid she'd hang up.

"El, really, you don't have to keep saying you're sorry." She studied the mural on the bathroom wall, heard the sound of a toilet flushing. "But I'm kind of in a hurry so-"

"Where are you?"

She swallowed. "Listen, that's not important. Why did you call, Elliot?"

Damn it. She didn't mean for her tone to sound so demanding.

"What's his name, Olivia?"

She closed her eyes. He didn't even sound mad. Just exhausted, like her.

"David Hayden. He's a lawyer," she replied, softly.

He exhaled, and Olivia suddenly felt that feeling again, like she was suffocating in her own life. That or it was the damned air freshener on the table behind her that kept spritzing puffs of blossom scented air out.

"Have fun, Liv." He sounded a little deflated, but she knew Elliot, of all people, understood. "The real reason I called was because I wanted to talk to you somewhere, not to ruin your night. So I'll text you tomorrow, okay?"

She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. "Okay, Elliot."

"Bye, Liv," he sighed.

"Bye, El."

She pressed 'end', and moved to open the door. David probably thought she was sick or something, since she was in there well over five minutes. Just as her hand grasped the handle, the wooden door swung open.

"Oh! Sorry-," she moved out of the way to let the woman in, but was instead met with a man's voice. The door closed behind him.

"Olivia," David looked at her, eyes searching her features, and what was that on his face?

Jealousy.

Shit. He had heard the whole conversation.

"David, I'm sorry. That was-,"

"Your old partner?"

She nodded, looking him in his eyes. "How did you guess?"

The right side of his mouth turned up in a sad sort of smile. "Olivia, you have a picture of the two of you in your living room."

She looked down, almost laughing at the irony of the whole situation. "Yeah, things with him are... complicated is the best word. He confronted me the other day and a lot of old feelings resurfaced, I guess." She looked up at him, and was relieved to see him nodding his head if not in agreement, then purely for her sake.

Olivia's throat tightened at what she was about to say. "I think it's best for both of us if we don't see each other anymore, David."

He was silent for a few beats, just looking at her. Analyzing.

He inhaled and took her hand in his. "Are you sure about this, Olivia?"

Damn him for being so understanding.

Her lip quivered a little, but she nodded and whispered, "Sorry."

"I understand, Olivia. Even though I thought we had something there, promise me you won't completely disappear from my life?"

Olivia smiled. "Of course. Thanks, David."

"One last kiss?"

She laughed a little, and it felt nice after all the heaviness. His palm snaked around to the small of her back, gently pulling her closer. Their kiss was soft and only lasted a few seconds.

They pulled apart, and it was a bittersweet moment because once again, she'd let another guy go.

David cleared his throat as a woman came in and despite the situation Olivia had to stifle a laugh at how uncomfortable he looked.

"Let's go before we get accused of any funny business. I'll drive you home, Olivia."

**A/N: Next up, Olivia and Elliot meet up! As always, review and tell me what you think lovely readers!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I know it took a while but...**

Elliot sat on the couch in his fairly new apartment, trying to focus on the magazine he was reading and explicitly trying not to think about the fact that he was meeting Olivia for coffee after she got out of court later.

It wasn't working. He was antsy and his stomach was doing somersaults because he knew what he was going to say to her and didn't know how she would take it.

She was always in his head lately. He would be making breakfast or dropping Eli off at school, and he would catch himself thinking of her. It made him feel like he was drowning sometimes, because he knew perfectly well what he wanted, but he wasn't sure Olivia did. He wasn't even sure she allowed herself to think of what she wanted at all.

And ever since last night, he had been wondering about this David guy. The lawyer. Elliot hated himself for it, but he never liked when Olivia had a serious boyfriend or even a date. Maybe it had to do with being a cop, but the the idea of some guy kissing and touching Olivia, having sex with her and saying "I love you," never settled well in his stomach.

Or, rather, that the guy was never him.

Elliot knew he was selfish. But he also knew that for the better part of their twelve year partnership, he was a married man. He would never, ever make Olivia the other woman.

Because, in truth, she was so much more than that.

He didn't know how it happened or why, but when he and Olivia were placed as partners thirteen years ago, he got the strange sense that he had to protect her. He saw the strong, passionate cop, but he also saw the broken woman who needed someone to love her, badly, but would never admit it.

So he did the next best thing, which was being her best friend. He protected her unconditionally, and it killed him to even think of the one time he wasn't there. The one time he couldn't be there to protect her.

She still hadn't told him what happened in the basement at Sealview, but he put two and two together and would never, ever stop beating himself up over not being there to protect his partner, his best friend, when she needed it the most.

For twelve years he was there for her, until one day it all blew up and he wasn't anymore.

Elliot threw his magazine down on the couch and stood. It was 2:15 and he didn't care if he would be early meeting Olivia.

He wouldn't screw it up this time, but it all rested on whether Olivia ran from him or not.

/

She had to be back in court once the jury's verdict was in, but Olivia told Elliot she'd meet him at the diner they used to frequent for a few minutes anyway. She knew the jury would be deliberating for some time.

It terrified her that she didn't know what Elliot wanted to talk about so badly, but what scared her the most was that she was willing to listen. Her mind spun as she finally squeezed into a parking space, and she willed her fingers to stop picking at the stitching in her jeans.

Slamming the door of her car, Olivia pulled her leather jacket tighter against the still chilly April breeze, and walked two blocks until she found the familiar sign and metal door.

Deep breath. Ding-a-ling.

She knew it was Elliot sitting in the far right corner even though he wasn't facing her from where he sat in the booth. His legs were spread out, taking up as much space as possible, and Olivia missed that about him. How he had an annoying tendency to take up a lot of space and, well, make his presence known.

She strode over to where he sat, leg fidgeting, elbows resting on the table. He turned his head and smiled that smile she loved, the one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Hey, Liv." He greeted her as she slid in across from him.

"Hey," she smiled softly, cautiously.

Those icy eyes stared at her, smile still pulling up the left side of his mouth, and she felt exposed, open. She sensed heat rising to her cheeks under Elliot's gaze, as the waitress came over and set down two steaming mugs of coffee.

"Thanks," they both muttered at the same time.

Olivia took a sip of the scalding hot liquid, very aware of Elliot's eyes on her. She hummed. Of course he remembered how she took her coffee.

He chuckled, obviously realizing what she was thinking. "Liv, did you honestly think I wouldn't remember? It's only been, what, five months?"

She smiled, looking down into her mug. "So, how're the kids, El?"

He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Good, great actually," his face lit up at the mention of his kids. "I think Kathleen's finally settling down, and the twins are great; Lizzie's studying psychology and Dickie's going into engineering."

She admired his fatherly pride, and adored all of his kids. "And how's the little guy?" Olivia always felt a strong attachment to Eli, having been present when Kathy went into premature labor and practically saving the baby.

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Getting into as much trouble as he can," he shook his head, "and now he's obsessed with anything Star Wars after we watched the first movie a few weeks ago."

Olivia nodded with short laugh, and couldn't help but feel a little sad like she always did when Elliot spoke of his family. For obvious reasons.

"How's work been, Olivia?"

She wasn't surprised by the question, but didn't know how to answer, exactly.

_Terrible, without you._

_I'm barely getting by._

_I don't think I can handle it anymore._

"Same as always" She looked at him, almost daring him to make her say it and letting out a breath when he did.

"Liv, I'm serious."

She looked around the diner and sighed, pausing for a few seconds before answering. "It's different, now, at the precinct. No one really has any drive to do anything anymore, and I think we're all just really...damn tired." She met his eyes. "What we do, it's never enough."

"Believe me, I get it." His voice dropped to a huskier tone, and he looked at her with sincerity shining in his eyes. "You don't have to be superwoman, Olivia."

She felt her throat constricting, because he voiced the fears she constantly lived with every day; not being enough and not being able to save everyone.

She looked back up at him and gave him a weak smile. "I know." Her voice was quiet, and she knew he knew she didn't believe herself.

_Pause._

"I broke up with David." She didn't know why she said it but she suspected he already knew it after their phone conversation last night.

"You didn't have to do that, Olivia." His voice was stern, but she knew that's what he wanted. And truthfully, what she wanted.

She looked down, pulling at her sleeve. "Yeah, I did."

Her phone buzzed. "It's Alex. I have to go," she half smiled at Elliot. "Thanks, El. I'll see you."

She moved to get out of the booth, but tensed when she felt the warmth of Elliot's hand on her wrist. "Wait Liv, I still need to ask you something."

She shifted her eyes from his hand to the slight smile on his face. "Are you free for dinner tonight?"

Her heart sped up at his sudden question and the shift in mood. "As a matter of fact," she gave him a coy smile, "I am."

"Well," Elliot stood, not bothering to hide his satisfaction, "I'll pick you up at 7?"

She laughed in spite of herself. "So... is this a date, Stabler?"

His eyes were brighter than she'd ever remembered them being.

"It's whatever you want it to be, Olivia."

**A/N: Again, sorry for the irregular updates! Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

The razor cut against Elliot's jaw, steam fogging up the mirror from the shower that hummed behind him. A pinprick of blood settled where the blade knicked his skin, but it barely registered in his mind.

He felt fresh. Like his life, even now, held a million possibilities that could still be discovered and nurtured into something wonderful.

/

The mascara wand glided against Olivia's eyelashes, spreading its sleak black coating to the tips and smoothing out any clumps that appeared. She liked what she saw in the mirror, a slow smile pushing her cheek up at the thought of who she was getting all dolled up for.

She felt jittery. Like all the too clear emotions would jump out of her skin if she didn't wrangle them in.

/

He rang the doorbell, trying to calm himself down and chuckling when he heard a muffled "Shit!" then a more composed, "Just a minute!"

He was ten minutes early, but Elliot didn't see what the use of standing around in his empty apartment was when he'd already been doing that for a good fifteen already.

Smirking and lowering his voice, he rapped on the door, "Open up, Benson! I know it doesn't take you that long to get ready!"

A minute later, the door swung open. He was sure he had some sort of visible reaction to the woman in front of him, but he didn't care because Olivia looked amazing. His eyes raked over her plum dress, or rather, her perfect body in the plum dress, and it was evidently her turn to smirk.

"Wow, I definitely take that back if it means you come out looking like this," he cleared his throat. "You look amazing, Liv."

Her smirk was replaced by a rare smile and she invited him in, but not before he saw the slight blush rise to her cheeks at the compliment. Elliot followed her inside, in complete awe of the way her dress accentuated her supple curves, long legs, and olive skin tone.

He leaned easily against the counter as she got two glasses out from the cabinet above her head. "Red or white?" She turned to look at him and he could clearly see her stifling a laugh at the way his eyes probably darted up from staring at her ass.

He adjusted his suit jacket and smiled that smile he knew looked effortless, replying, "Red."

"Good, me too," she poured them each a glass of the satiny red liquid and took a sip of her own.

He was about to tell her again how beautiful she looked when she remarked, "So, are you ever gonna tell me where you're taking me, Stabler?"

Elliot grinned and shook his head. "No, but I know you'll like it."

Olivia rolled her eyes but he saw the amused gleam in them. "Uh-huh," she laughed, taking another sip of her wine.

He caught the time on his watch and knew they had to get moving if they wanted to make the 7:30 reservation. Olivia seemingly saw him do so and set her glass down, retrieving her coat from the arm of the couch.

After her coat was on, he smiled at her and placed his hand lightly on the small of her back. "Ready?"

She seemed okay with the little contact, which was a good sign, at least to him. He glanced over to the counter and saw Olivia's purse lying there, so he quickly grabbed it as they were leaving.

It was oddly heavy, but he handed it to her as soon as she opened the door.

He saw the fleeting look take over her eyes for a second, and then it clicked.

She was on call.

He stopped her when they neared the elevator of her building. "Liv, you didn't tell me you were on call."

She opened her mouth and sighed, looking down. "I'm lucky I even got off work in the first place, but can we please just enjoy tonight while it lasts, El?"

He looked at her for a few beats but then nodded, "Of course we can, Olivia. Don't forget I used to do this too."

He hoped the pedophiles and rapists could restrain themselves for at least tonight, so he could spend a little time with the woman who'd already seen enough horrible things to last twenty lifetimes.

/

The conversation on the ride in Elliot's car there was limited, but once they got to the restaurant it flowed easily and they had managed to avoid any heavy topics-which was new for Olivia since the dynamic of their relationship used to be solely based on topics that were definitely not considered 'light'.

So far Olivia was impressed with Elliot's choice, loving the rustic yet refined Italian restaurant and being thoroughly surprised with the quality of food, which was delicious even for the city, jam packed with little Italian joints.

She looked up from her mostly gone lobster ravioli and watched Elliot as he stared at the remnants of his steak for a while, smiling a little.

She loved seeing him like this, and found herself just watching him multiple times during their date so far. It was so unlike the angry, hardened Elliot she remembered. He was still serious, still the same person, but he was making a conscious effort to try and contain his temper.

Maybe what changed him was leaving the job, maybe what did it was coming back to her.

She finally caught his eye and he smiled, watching her face.

"What?" She asked him, taking a sip of her wine.

He laughed, not answering her for the longest time.

She was starting to seriously question his mental state when he finally spoke, gesturing to the two of them.

"This. I can't believe all of this is actually happening." His hand reached over to where she was tracing the base of her glass and grasped it, surprising her a little. "You're letting me in after everything I did."

His words affected her, and she realized, yeah, she was. Olivia smiled, looking down at their hands, his covering her now upturned palm. "I can't believe it any more than you can."

He squeezed her hand slightly and she squeezed back, almost involuntarily.

The waiter came back to clear their table and they decided to share some chocolate concoction for dessert that was apparently their specialty, according to the overly enthusiastic waiter.

"So," Elliot started, moving his chair in a bit, "how's the new partner?"

She suspected he'd been wondering that ever since he left, and to be honest Olivia had been dreading the question. No matter who her new partner was, she didn't think Elliot would approve of him. Especially if they ever were to meet...

She met his eyes, folding her hands on the table. "Nick's a good cop. Transferred from narcotics. He's got his family problems, but so does everyone." Elliot nodded. She took a breath and let it out. "He gets affected by the kids, mostly. But that's when he does his best work, y'know?"

Right as the words left her mouth, she realized she shouldn't have mentioned the kids part. Of course Elliot knew. She'd basically just described him, with the exception of the anger issues.

It registered in his face and he nodded, examining her again. "That's good." He attempted a smile.

It was quiet for a few long seconds, but then she heard it. Even in the semi loudness of the restaurant it was the unmistakable sound of her phone chirping from inside her purse. Almost like she had been listening for it, the inevitable call.

Her stomach dropped. She didn't know if Elliot heard it, but he must've seen her face change.

She reached for her phone, hand brushing against the cold metal of her gun.

_Reality._

Two missed calls from Cragen. She looked up at Elliot as she slid her finger to redial.

She saw the waiter coming, dessert in hand.

Elliot nodded at her and she could feel the disappointment clouding the air as she quickly made her way to the tiny, sort of secluded area at the front of the restaurant.

"Olivia! Why haven't you been picking up your phone?" The agitated voice of her captain barked in her ear.

"Sorry, I was er, busy," she closed her eyes.

He paused, probably feeling bad for taking her away from whatever plans she had. For a second Olivia thought he would say something along the lines of, "That's okay, I'll call in someone else," but he didn't.

"We've got a rape-homicide in Central. Body turned up on the north side of the reservoir. By the tennis courts. I need you and Nick now, Olivia." His tone was almost apologetic but he was definitely stressed.

She hung up with a quick, "Be there in fifteen." That's all she could do. There was always another victim, always another rapist, always another excuse.

She walked back to their table and saw Elliot picking at the chocolate dessert. She grabbed her coat, and he looked up at her.

The hardness was back, but it wasn't anger. More like sadness.

He got up too, fishing some bills out of his wallet. "I'll drive you," were the only words he said. They sounded stale.

She couldn't bring herself to even say she was sorry, the hurt in his voice was so evident. He never was good at disguising his feelings, at least to her. It always showed on his face.

She just waited for him to get his coat on and she grabbed her purse and they left. Into the cold, unforgiving air of Manhattan. There was barely a breeze, but the night seemed to stand still, stagnant.

She couldn't breathe, though.

They walked the block to Elliot's car, and he opened the door for her.

She smiled a tight, preoccupied smile, but didn't look at him. It wasn't fair to him.

It wasn't fair to her.

Her door closed and then his door opened and she heard his weight settle against the seat.

"Where?" He asked her, a little softer than before.

"Reservoir," was her one word answer.

He sighed, turning his head to look at her, while starting the car.

They drove in silence for ten minutes. Her jaw was set as she stared out the window, trying to hold back the tears that were trying so damn hard not to fall.

He parked far enough so no one would recognize his car, but not far enough so it would be too long of a walk for her.

"Sorry," she muttered at him, not looking him in the eyes as she moved to undo her seatbelt.

She felt his hand on her arm, so she turned.

"Do it for me, Liv," were his words, quiet but firm.

She looked down and nodded, just sitting there for a second.

He squeezed her hand. "Thank you," was all she could bring herself to say.

Then she opened the door, taking a shaky breath and telling herself it was the last time.

No more after this, was all she could think. It was all she could tell herself if she wanted to make it through the day anymore.

She looked back and Elliot's car was pulling away.

The breeze picked up and it pushed her forwards towards the yellow tape she could already see.

_A reminder._

**A/N: Give me feedback, lovely readers!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Tense changed from past to present.**

**Warning: Brief mentions of self harm. Nothing graphic.**

Olivia ducks under the crime scene tape, stepping onto the grass and feeling her heels sink slightly into the earth. The nighttime air is chilled and harsh and she is almost glad it makes her feel so numb, because that's what she feels inside, too. The CSU's are scattered around the bank of the reservoir, and she spots a tense looking Nick and Cragen talking to a couple clinging to each other. She assumes they are the ones who discovered the body.

The body.

Melinda is crouched over to her right, not yet having noticed her, and Olivia makes her way over to the medical examiner.

Her breaths come in ragged pants once she sees the lifeless form laying in front of Melinda.

The girl couldn't have been more than twelve.

Her blonde hair is long and matted, her lips cold, purple. There is no sheet covering her thin form, and Olivia almost cringes at the sight of the girl's bare body, but doesn't. She has always felt wrong looking at the naked bodies of dead victims, but it's just another part of the job she has had to accept.

Olivia stops herself from cringing each time, because by now she should be used to it.

She lets out a breath, crouching down near the girl, and Melinda turns.

"Nice dress," she gives Olivia a half smile, taking her eyes off of her examination for a second to look her up and down.

Olivia gives her a tight smile but barely glances at the woman; she can't take her eyes off of the blue girl laying on the grass, the victim. The wheels in her head are already turning about what could have possibly happened, and frankly she doesn't have the energy to make playful banter with her coworkers about her night.

All thoughts of Elliot and whatever semblance of a personal life she thought she had are gone, and she puts on the steely exterior that comes naturally when it's her goal to get the job done.

She never thinks of herself when there's a victim, another person in the picture; it's what's gotten her into tight spots, almost raped, almost shot, almost too broken to keep doing it, again and again.

'Almost' being the key word, she tells herself each time. She didn't get shot. She wasn't raped. She wasn't killed.

But the women who constantly come into the precinct, shaking and terrified, had been.

_"Are you Detective Benson?"_

The ones whose beds are now rigid metal tables, whose eyes are permanently shut, dreaming of places she hopes are an improvement of this living hell, had been.

_Silence._

They are the ones she lives for. The ones she survives for, because they hadn't been able to.

Her life, her thoughts, her sleep, would all be occupied by this girl, this dead girl, who could no longer sleep, think, live. It's what she has dedicated her life to, and she doesn't allow herself to stop long enough in between to ask why.

Why she lets herself become consumed by her job.

Why she lets herself become a teddy bear for hundreds of victims without a second thought.

But, the ultimate question has always been, why she even thinks, "why"?

_Why do people do horrible things?_

Olivia's long given up on that one.

It's always been her job to save people, to pick up the pieces, but she's never put much thought into saving herself.

It's simply her job, and as she examines the girl, and as the wind picks up and rattles a few leaves, and as she listens to Melinda tell her about what she found on the girl as if her wounds are what defines her, Olivia knows it will take a hell of a lot to pull her from this job permanently.

She listens as Melinda tells her of the self-inflicted cuts on the girl's wrists, of the recent and some definitely not recent contusions on the insides of her forearms and thighs. She listens as Melinda tells her of the vaginal trauma, mostly long term. She listens as Melinda confirms the girl is most likely eleven to fourteen years old.

Olivia nods, and steps away from the medical examiner and the body, walking over to her partner and her captain, wondering how terrible the abuse was for this poor girl that she resorted to cutting herself.

Nick sees her and she silently thanks him for not commenting on her attire, noting that he looks like utter shit. There are bags under his eyes, and she can tell the young couple who he and Cragen had been talking to were no help.

He doesn't greet her, just says, "Captain wants us to check Missing Persons and meet back at the station afterwards." He is obviously tired and Olivia wants to ask him what's on his mind but decides he would give her some sort of hint on the car ride.

She follows him to their unmarked car and gets into the passenger side, because Nick usually drives and she doesn't want to rock the boat on their partnership anymore than it has already been rocked.

Olivia glances over at her partner's locked jaw and eyes intent on the darkness ahead of him, and decides that tonight neither of them will be questioning each other's appearances.

He pulls out. Olivia can't stop thinking about how peaceful the girl with the purple lips and the expressionless eyes and the cut up wrists looked, lying there on the matted grass.

_Still, amidst chaos._

/

The elevator in her building seems extra fluorescent tonight, and she just wants to sleep. She wants to take a scalding hot shower because she feels dirty, and she wants to lay in her bed and forget about the girl.

Laura Whiting.

But she especially wants to forget about the girl's mother's "boyfriend".

She wants to forget about the mother's alcoholism and she wants to just fucking forget her life and maybe wake up as someone else who doesn't care so much it hurts to feel emotion.

But Olivia's so exhausted and it's nearly three in the morning and she can't forget. She doesn't know why this case hits her so hard, but it does.

_Ding. _

_Left, right. _

_Jingle._

_Click._

Olivia opens the door and immediately hears the sound of TV.

Her heart pounds, but she walks in and sees something she never thought she'd see. Or want, maybe.

Elliot, draped over her couch, at three in the morning, soft snores escaping his half open mouth.

The light from some news show washes over his face, and she watches him.

She wants to cry because he came to her apartment and stayed, so she wouldn't be alone when she got back from playing hero.

No one does things like that for her.

A lump lodges itself in her throat, and she doesn't want to wake him, so she deposits her shoes, avoiding the creaking floorboards and crossing the room to get to her bathroom.

/

Elliot slips out of unconsciousness, ears trained to listen for what sound woke him from his light sleep.

The shower is running, and he realizes she's back.

He'd never actually meant to fall asleep, wincing as he shifts on Olivia's couch. His back isn't meant for sleeping on couches.

The red numbers blinking on her microwave say 3:17 and he hears the water shut off.

He sits up, and pulls down the gray sweatshirt he found in her room before.

He chose it because he'd left it here, but it smells like Olivia.


	7. Chapter 7

He sits up on her couch, swiping a hand down his jaw and sighing again as his back twinges in knotted pain.

The quietness is thick and palpable now that the muffled pitter patter of water is gone, and he can hear Olivia shuffling her feet around in the bathroom.

He had a feeling,tonight, that Olivia would need him. It's his sixth sense and it's always been correct, since Olivia so rarely ever admits that she does need him. The one other time he got that fleeting sense that something was horribly off balance was when Sonja died.

He still remembers the way Olivia's face looked that day, that exact moment when time stood still just for them, holding its breath and crossing its fingers just a little bit. She had wrapped her arms around his neck and he felt her need and vulnerability in the way she was clinging to him like he was air.

Her eyes were watery, but no tears fell. She let him hold her, but not nearly long enough.

He remembers the look on her face when she let go, like she was sorry for needing him just that once, like she was sorry she was so affected and he was the only one who understood. Then she was gone and he had wished he'd said something. At least told her everything would be okay. They would be okay.

But, he's never been able to lie to Liv. She doesn't deserve lies and half-assedness. She deserves the world and he would give it to her if he could.

She's the only one who understands him so well he doesn't have to speak, just to look, and he assumes, no, he knows, that he's the only one who understands her in that capacity as well.

It's really the only tangible reality when you've been side by side with someone for twelve years. It's really the only logical ending when you spend so much time with one person that they _get_ you better than your own wife. Ex-wife.

He hopes that's the only ending.

Elliot straightens up a little when he hears the lock go clink-clink and Olivia's soft footsteps creak over to the kitchen. She's wearing loose sweatpants and a long sweater, with her hair laying against her shoulders. No Looney Tunes pajamas this time.

He wonders if it's because this time she knows he's here.

He notices her hair isn't wet and that she has barely glanced at him. He hears a cupboard open and she's taking a small box out and filling a kettle with water. He catches a glimpse of her face, her jaded eyes not meeting his.

"Do you want tea?" She asks him with her back facing the living room.

He shakes his head and watches her. "I'm okay."

She nods and says nothing, spooning in enough for only one person. He wonders what kind of tea she likes, but doesn't ask because if she's quiet that's what he wants to be, too.

Olivia pulls her sweater tighter and crosses her arms, letting out a sigh that hangs in the air and stays there.

He takes a breath, too. "Tough case?"

The question catches her off guard and he sees her expression become distant as she looks at him with a guarded smile. He sees the hurt and the familiar grief in the way she can't keep eye contact, but he's hurt too because she thinks he forgot what it's like to see terrified faces plaguing his mind and terrified voices ringing in his ears so loudly he wants to pound his head in or lose himself in a bottle of hard liquor for a while.

He doesn't want her to be guarded around him. He wants her to feel, with him. To uncross her arms and to wear cartoon character pajamas and to let him be the cause of a real smile, not some pained one that hides how broken she feels inside. And he wants it to be different than when they were partners because that's how it should be.

Damn it, that's how it should be. That's how it should've been, too.

He looks at her, and hopes his voice is soft, even though he wants to scream at how closed in he feels. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She quietly chuckles, only it's a weird sort of laugh like she's trying to prove she's strong enough to be unfazed around him. The disguised rawness in her voice gives her away, though. "What's there to talk about, El? It's nothing I haven't seen before." She still isn't looking at him.

"Olivia, look at me." He says, but she doesn't. Her chin juts out a little, and the tea kettle whistles so she moves to turn off the burner. She waits about thirty seconds, keeping her back to him, and pours the steaming liquid into a mug.

The silence envelops them and he wonders why it's so difficult for Olivia to just open up to him.

Then he remembers that he had always done the same thing to her, had always put his thoughts just out of reach for her, and he feels like a hypocritical bastard again. He made her this way, or at least helped, and he will fix it. Olivia is one thing in his life that he needs to fucking fix. The one thing, right now, that is worth fixing.

She's still standing in the kitchen, taking slow sips of tea. Her eyes wander the floor and he knows she's thinking about the case.

"Liv, talk to me," he tries again, eyes trained on her slightly shadowed form. He wants to shake her until the tears are forced to fall out, until all of the emotions pour out of her and she knows he won't leave her ever again, because what he wants to be is with Olivia and it can finally work.

Unless, it's too late. Because maybe her walls are stacked too high for even him to break down.

She finally looks at him. She's debating and he can see it. Her mouth is opening and closing and she probably doesn't know where to start or maybe she's just finding an excuse.

"What do you want me to say to you, Elliot?" She's trying to be strong for him, and he doesn't want her to be.

He feels exasperated and tired, but he knows Olivia will get defensive if he blows up and demands answers, and he doesn't want that, either

He's selfish, but she's always put up with it.

Elliot's about to go over to her since it's obvious she won't come to him, but Olivia speaks before he can stand up.

"Why did you stay?" Her watery eyes are on his and her lips are pressed together like if she opens them too many words will tumble out and betray her.

He's kind of floored at the question. Why did he stay?

_Because, I know you._

_Because, I love you. But I won't tell you that until you trust me not to steal your heart and run away with it._

Elliot takes in a breath and locks gazes with her. "I know you, Olivia. And I know you keep everything bottled up inside of you. I want you to know I'm here," he says firmly, softly, "and that I'm not leaving."

He watches as her expression changes and when the first tear falls she looks away.

"How am I supposed to know that?" He hears the fragility in her voice and sees the pain in her gaze and knows she's done pretending.

"Come here, Olivia." It hurts him to see her so unsure of herself.

She cradles her tea and swipes at a tear, moving to sit on the couch with him but keeping distance between their bodies.

It's silent for a few seconds, because neither of them are any good at whatever they're supposed to be doing.

Olivia takes a sip of her tea, and he can smell the soothing, earthy aroma that she's comforting herself with.

"Thanks for staying." She says it in a quiet way he's not used to hearing from her. She draws her knees up onto the couch, hands fidgeting with her mug in between her knees and stomach.

Elliot scoots closer to her, and it's a quiet moment so he speaks quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."

She looks at him a while, and after a few beats gives him a sad, but genuine smile.

He reaches for her hand, stilling it from toying with the handle of the mug, and twines her fingers with his.

"Talk to me." He's searching her face and rubbing her thumb with his.

She looks at their hands.

He feels and sees something inside of her split wide open, and he thinks maybe it's her heart, because suddenly she's crying and tears are streaming openly down her cheekbones.

He gently pries her tea away and places it on the coffee table in front of them, so he can pull her into him.

Her head is laying against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around her body as it shudders with quiet sobs that he knows should be louder.

Olivia's so small, against him, and he rubs her back and tries not to break, himself, at the feeling of her warm tears on his warm neck and her body shaking against his.

One of her hands grasps his sweatshirt so tight, and the other is wedged in between them.

He leans an inch down and presses his lips to her hair and he swears she cries harder.

They stay like that for a good five minutes and during those five minutes all Elliot heard was the sound of Olivia crying. He couldn't even hear his thoughts, too busy holding Olivia tight and telling her it would be okay. They would be okay.

Until, finally, her sobs died down and all that was left was the sound of her breath getting stuck in her throat and her fingers still clutching onto his sweatshirt.

She lifts her head, wipes her eyes. "Sorry."

He shakes his head. "You didn't do anything wrong." He swipes his thumbs under her eyes. Wipes her tears for her.

She doesn't turn her head as her eyes fill all over again. "I didn't save her," she whispers, "and her sister is still living with that man and her drunk mother because forensics couldn't prove he hit her so hard he killed her."

She looks at him, like he could make it all better and it tears him apart because he realizes he can't. And maybe, when they were partners he could've at least been there to share the pain with her. But now, it's different and all he gets is the aftermath.

Olivia looks down. "The sister was too afraid to talk." She glances up at him again. "The mother was too drunk to care."

She starts to cry again, and he holds her until she's not whimpering anymore.

It's silent, again. He feels her heart beating against his. She's stopped crying, but she hasn't moved.

"Liv?"

She doesn't answer, and he wants to laugh or cry because Olivia is asleep against him, and it's four in the morning.

He kisses her head again, and whispers, even though she can't hear him, "I'm not going anywhere."

She tightens her fingers around the gray sweatshirt they sometimes share, and maybe she _does_ hear him.

**A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying the pace as much as I am! Review, and if you happen to be a Rolivia shipper as well, check out my new story, 'The Act of Forgetting'.**


	8. Chapter 8

She startles awake. For a second, she is alarmed because someone's holding her, but then she breathes and remembers. It's still dark out, but the clock tells her she has a little over an hour until it's time for work. Before Olivia has any time to think about the night's events or the way she's sort of curled into Elliot's chest, he stirs.

He seems disoriented for a minute, but then Olivia feels him tug her closer in a sort of half-hug. She sort of snuggles into his neck for a second, mostly because he can't see her face and somehow that makes it okay.

"Hey," His voice is quiet and tinted with a trace of sleep but neither of them has gotten much. His gaze is set on her, and when she looks up, he smiles.

"Hi," Olivia says, and she's smiling a tiny bit and not moving from her position leaning against Elliot.

He chuckles a little, and looks over his shoulder at the time. "You've still got an hour," he says quietly, lets it resonate in the space between them that doesn't actually exist at the moment.

Or, ever.

It's silent, and all she feels is Elliot's chest rising and falling, rising and falling, and it makes her more aware of her own chest rising and falling, rising and falling. Olivia's surprised to find she isn't embarrassed that she let Elliot see her so emotional a few hours ago, and she thinks it's because she doesn't have anything to prove to him anymore.

It felt nice, even cleansing, in a way, to let herself just cry. Against Elliot. He's the one constant in her life other than the job, which really isn't a constant. Not anymore; nowadays it's more like a ticking time bomb she chooses to ignore.

She realizes, once again, that Elliot's the one she needs even when he's the problem. He's the one she had wanted to comfort her when the captain told her he'd turned his papers in, however twisted and backwards that may seem. Elliot Stabler has always been the one she's needed, wanted, when a case gets to her. After he left, too. When she'd had a breakup or a failed date or just a bad day, she hadn't wanted Casey or Alex or David there for her. She'd always wanted Elliot.

And he had never been attainable, then. That hurt. That he was her first choice and she was his second.

But, now he's here. He's divorced and holding her at six in the morning when her eyes are still sore from crying and he's had less than two hours of sleep and the reality hits her. Hard.

Elliot fucking stayed. She's all he has now, too. They're both each other's lifelines, and after everything's been peeled away and rusted off and torn apart, she realizes, they're all the other has.

Olivia lifts her head, pushes herself up a tiny bit and looks at Elliot, who is staring down at her, so close. His arm has lowered down to her waist, and she's every bit aware of it.

"Thanks for staying," she says, quietly. "It means a lot."

She looks away when his intense stare becomes too much, and after waiting for him to say something, anything, makes a move to rise off of the cushion.

He stops her. "Liv." His other hand is on her arm, grasping it tightly, and her heart beats noticeably faster as she is pulled back down to the couch.

"You're welcome," he scratches out, accent thick. Then, he loosens his grip. His eyebrows are furrowed, and she can tell he's debating something internally or thinking about something, because that's how he gets and she knows from experience.

Olivia looks down. "I should go get ready." She waits with bated breath for something to happen, exhales, then stands up.

He does, too.

She grabs the cold mug of tea from last night and walks over to drop it in the kitchen sink, her steps heavy against the creaking floor and her mouth turned down slightly.

He's following her, but she pretends not to notice.

Olivia spins around and she swears time speeds up because Elliot is a foot away from her. She shivers. It's like she can feel his presence, like he steals away all the air in the room.

He steps forward, and her heart is beating so hard and so fast because he's got his palm on her cheek and the other's on the counter next to her hip and then he's closer to her than he's ever been.

And then, time slows down because she feels Elliot's lips brushing against hers, and it's so soft and so barely there that her eyes fill a little.

He's still cupping her cheek. His lips have left hers for the moment but his eyes are locked on her eyes and she's never been so close to the man in her life. He's looking at her, gauging her reaction.

She thinks she should probably say something, but her gaze dips down to his lips and then he's crushing them to hers. He's all power and force against her, and it's really making it hard for her to think properly. Which is probably a good thing, since when she's thinking properly she doesn't let things like this happen.

She's so surprised at his enthusiasm that her mouth opens, and damn him because Elliot slips his tongue in and she can't help it.

She moans into his mouth, feels heat rise to her face because she shouldn't be enjoying it so much. She knows he hears it because he's grasping her hip now instead of the counter, and leaning into her while he roams her mouth, tastes her on his tongue. Her hands grip the counter behind her because she doesn't trust herself with her hands all over Elliot. The solid bulk of his chest is a wall against her breasts, the friction delicious against her hardening nipples. All she can hear is the fragile sound of lips against lips.

God help her, because she's kissing him back and-_fuck_.

He leans in a little too close and she feels his hardness graze her thigh. Her breath hitches and she's turned on but it's all happening way too fast and she has to stop because there's no room to think, with Elliot being her only source of oxygen.

She breaks apart from his soft mouth, needing air, but then her mind is spinning because he's moving her hair aside and Elliot's lips are pressing against her neck.

Even though she's tilting her head to grant him more access to her weakest spot, she's pushing against the planes of his chest.

He sucks on her neck, his mouth warm and wet and soft, and she loses control again, moans quietly.

She's _very_ well aware of how fast she loses control, with Elliot.

"Stop," she gasps out, when his hand inches up from her waist, getting dangerously close to the swell of her breast.

He does, immediately.

And then there's a moment where he's looking at her with this passionate emotion in his eyes and she can't rip her gaze away.

The particular moment will always be ingrained in her mind, but the only thing she'll remember is how damn close he is to her.

She's a little breathless and so is he, but he finally steps back, dropping his hands from her body and giving her a little room.

"Sorry," he whispers, eyes downcast.

She interrupts him. "El," she says, because she doesn't know how to tell him she feels the same way. Whatever way he feels about her, whatever feeling she doesn't want to name yet, they both feel it and Olivia knows this.

He exhales and turns away from her, moving to rest his elbows on the small breakfast bar area perpendicular to the expanse of counter she's still glued to. He swipes both hands down his face.

"Olivia, tell me you know already."

Her heart stops when he says it. She thinks it literally stops, because the quiet way he says it, it freezes her to her spot. It knocks the wind out of her lungs and she reminds herself to inhale.

"Know what?" Her voice sounds as fragile as the thing she knows he's talking about.

She notices the light streaming in that's turned her apartment a few shades brighter, sometime during their whatever-this-is.

"Goddamnit, Olivia," he's back up and heading towards her again and for a split second she thinks he's going to do something drastic just because his eyes are on fire.

But then, Elliot's hands are cupping her face and he's kissing her so delicately and passionately, like he's trying to coax words out of her mouth.

He _is_ air, Olivia realizes, and decides to kiss him back.

Before things get heated again, Elliot pulls back and searches her eyes.

"Olivia," he rasps, caressing her face, "Tell me you know how I feel about you."

There are tears in his eyes.

Hers, too.

"Please."

The broken word, it breaks her.

She nods, closes her eyes and lets the tears fall freely, lets her head fall against him, lets her arms wrap around his solidness. _Elliot_.

They stand there for a few minutes, wrapped up in each other.

After a while, Olivia pulls away slightly, wiping her eyes. "God, I'm a mess!" She allows a short laugh.

Elliot smiles. "That's true." He kisses her forehead. "A beautiful mess," he whispers against her skin.

Olivia smiles and he's embracing her again, but she feels him chuckle and sigh.

"That was pretty corny, wasn't it?"

She laughs, breathes him in once more before detaching herself from his arms.

"It was," she says, her voice playful in spite of all of it. "And I'm gonna be late for work if I don't get moving."

He smirks and chuckles, again. "That, you are."

She turns to walk towards her bedroom, hears him still chuckling that funny laugh of his when she shuts the door.

She knows he's laughing because of the two of them, and she's okay with that. They're a funny pair, she and Elliot.

_Partners_.

The word bounces around in her head all day.

**A/N: Ah, my lovely readers, do not fret. Once the smut comes, (and it will come soon), I shall not dissapoint. For now, review, and it would be MUCH appreciated if you allowed a smidge more than "update soon"... I don't know, bang on your keyboard or something. **


	9. Chapter 9

Kathleen twirls a piece of her hair around her finger while she babbles about her upcoming interview to her father.

"I mean, it seemed like she was pretty excited on the phone, but, I don't know, what if I screw it all up?" She chews on a fry and shakes her head. "I'll probably say something completely stupid and mess up my chances of ever-,"

Elliot cuts her off. He _hates_ when Kathleen does this. She's so sure of herself with certain things, but then becomes incredibly insecure at times. Lizzie does it too, but Kathleen scares him when she starts immersing herself in self-doubt. She'll start pushing people away or, another extreme, trusting too easily, and it's never been easy to watch his children struggle with their insecurities before. It reminds him too much of his own childhood, how his father never appreciated him and made him feel like he was a failure. He never wants his kids to endure that. To be honest, he's always been scared of becoming his father, and he's had to live with that every time he's come close to lashing out at one of his children. Or Kathy.

"Kathleen," he uses her full name and she glances up at him, "You'll get it. Stop worrying, okay?" He tilts his eyebrows up and smiles. "And if you don't, that's okay too. Nobody will think any less of you if you don't get the job at this school. And the interviewer won't think any less of you either if you make a mistake."

His second eldest daughter sighs and plays with her straw. She does the thing where you suction the top of the opening with your finger and lift the straw out of the liquid, releasing the pad of your finger so the liquid falls out.

She does it a few times before bringing the straw to her mouth and letting the tiny bit of Coke fall onto her tongue. It's a little childish, but then again, everyone's a little childish at times.

He can see her anxiety clearly written on her face. Kathleen's never been very good at hiding her emotions, and usually, whatever emotion she's feeling at the moment completely takes over and blinds her. When she's angry, she's furious. But, when she's happy, she's ecstatic and it's contagious.

Elliot wants his daughter to be successful, but above all, he wants her to be happy and secure in her life. She's had enough of everything else and her life has not been the easiest. Kathleen is a smart girl underneath all of her emotions, and Elliot knows she will be amazing at whatever she does, whether she gets the position she applied for at the school or not. Not just because she's his daughter, but because he knows Kathleen naturally gets people. She understands how people think and work because she's gone through a lot. She's a genuine girl and yeah, she has her moods, but she's grown up and matured into the amazing woman he never doubted she would become.

"I guess," she continues playing with her straw as someone comes to clear the leftovers of their lunch off the table.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and when he pulls it out Kathleen's back straightens. "Who's that?"

He stares at the text from Olivia, and he feels like a teenager with how his heart is fluttering. It's amazing how a few simple words can alter your mood and quicken your heart rate.

After internally debating for about a grand three seconds, he doesn't really look up and says, "Just a friend." But he's smiling and knows he's been caught by his daughter.

She giggles and leans back in her chair. "Dad, that is not 'just a friend'!"

He looks up from typing back a reply and doesn't hide the small smile on his face.

Kathleen covers her mouth and he thinks he hears her gasp. "Oh my god! Is that Olivia?" Her eyes widen at his lack of response. "You guys are talking again?" She nearly squeals.

He laughs. Maybe a little nervously, but kind of giddy.

"Oh my god! It's more than just talking, isn't it?"

He stops her, quick to correct her assumption that he's jumped into bed with his former partner. "No!" He shakes his head. "We're just..." He trails off, because he doesn't know how to define Olivia and he anymore.

Kathleen slaps both palms on the table excitedly, her smile spreading wide. "So it is Olivia? Dad, that's great!"

He's taken aback by her enthusiasm. Especially since he's not even in a 'relationship' with Olivia yet. He wants to be, though. And he's planning on telling her that. "Yeah, well, it's not like that." He looks down. "I'm not even sure she wants to be in a real relationship with me, actually." His voice softens. "I really hurt her."

Kathleen looks at her father and she's shaking her head. "Dad, you'd be an idiot not to take things further with Olivia." She waits for him to respond. "I mean, it's obvious you love her!" She says, throwing her hands up.

His mouth turns up slightly, but then he's serious again. "I do, but I don't know if she'll ever truly forgive me for leaving her like that. Liv's been through a lot of shit, and she didn't need me walking out of her life like that. She didn't have to deal with me all those years." It's taking a lot for him to reveal this all to Kathleen, even if she is his daughter. "But she did."

She reaches across the table and grasps her father's hand. "Of course she'll forgive you, Dad. Give it some time."

He's not so sure about that, but just sighs and stares at his daughter.

"Listen, Dad. Olivia's a great person, and I'm happy that you two have finally realized you're pretty much made for each other." She looks at him intently. "And, I'm glad that it's Olivia. And not, like, some rebound from the divorce."

He nods, and then Kathleen looks at her phone and stands. "I'll be late to the interview if I don't leave now. Thanks for lunch!" She hugs him when he stands up.

He smiles and wishes her good luck at her interview, telling her to call when she's done and hugging her back with the type of embrace he reserves for his children only.

She giggles loudly and says, "You too!"

He shakes his head, pays for their lunch, and waves as she walks in the opposite direction as he does. Her, heading to catch a cab, and him, heading to the movie rental place a couple blocks over.

He picks out a few good ones so Olivia can decide which she is in the mood for. She texted him earlier telling him to bring over a movie and that she'd order takeout 'like old times'. He almost chuckles, heading down onto the subway, because it was nothing like old times, at least in the sense that touching each other and comforting one another used to be completely off limits.

He wonders if the job was the only barrier between them all along.

God, the feel of his lips on hers, of her breaths and sighs lingering against his mouth, just felt inexplicably right. They have to talk about things. This, he knows. But, they've always had to talk about things.

He really, really loves her and it's so freaking obvious now that he's had enough time to think about her. Them. It scares him that all of a sudden he's decided that he wants, needs, really, to be with Olivia and love her and give her what she deserves and what he deserves, too. She brings out the best in him. She gets him and they get each other and it's simple in his eyes. Fuck their complicated past all to hell, because the only thing that made it complicated was that they loved each other and weren't allowed to. But now, they are and he needs it. As fresh as a start he'll ever get with Olivia.

Olivia's always been good for him. A sort of painkiller. A reminder to cool down and think with his head, not with his fists.

As he clatters down the subway stairs with some old movies under his arm and a spring in his step, he knows that this time, he's not thinking with his head or his fists.

He's thinking with his heart.

(But his head agrees.)

/

Elliot knocks on her door in sweatpants and he smiles when she opens it still in her clothes from work. A reddish, brick colored sweater and black slacks, hair falling in waves. He's never seen it like that before.

He's never seen a lot of things in this world, before. It scares him and quickens his heart rate at the same time.

"Hey," he says as she moves to let him in. "I brought movies."

She laughs that husky laugh of hers that he doesn't remember being as warm and infectious as it is right now, in this moment.

"I can see that," Olivia eyes his pickings, "I ordered Thai from that place we used to get it from all the time." Her words are a bit rushed and she clutches the back of a chair.

He knows which one she's talking about and the images of late nights at the precinct and stakeouts with his partner flicker briefly in his head.

He looks at her and wonders if they're gonna act like the other morning never happened. The one where they both almost lost their thin grip on control, the one where he felt Olivia's lips moving against his, the one where she allowed him to break down those high walls of hers for a few seconds, minutes.

"I remember," he lets his eyes meet hers and she smiles halfway.

They both don't know what to say for a few seconds, and then Olivia speaks.

"I'm gonna go get changed," she moves towards her bedroom. "Make yourself at home." She calls it over her shoulder and waves a hand in the general direction of the living room.

He watches her hips sway down the short area to her bedroom and turns his eyes to roam the room when she closes the door.

He sets the movies down on the coffee table and sits on her couch. Makes himself at home.

But Elliot doesn't know where to look so he finds himself glancing around the room. Something on the fridge catches his eye.

It's a drawing that he never noticed the other day. In order to examine it closer, he finds himself standing in her kitchen again.

It's a kid's drawing of a cop that he assumes is Liv. It's a harmless depiction of a police officer and Elliot thinks it's ironic or funny or _something_ that no child would ever think to include the dead people or maybe worse, the living victims they encounter in a drawing.

He chuckles, nonetheless, because it's humorous seeing Olivia as a child's charicature. He'd never known the kid had drawn her stuff. She'd never mentioned it at work.

Calvin _Benson._

The name pricks at the back of his eyes and he remembers the kid. Olivia had really been attached to him, and it saddens and pains him that she's kept the drawing.

And then it hits him in a tidal wave all over again.

Olivia is so afraid of getting into something with him because she's petrified that he'll leave.

Like everyone else.

Like he _already_ did.

Fuck. He won't put her through it again. He won't be like the rest of them, like his old self. God, he wants to fix Olivia's heart and make it better and rearrange history. He can't fix the past, though, only the present and it jars him like her voice does.

"El?" Her voice is timid a few feet behind him and he jumps but doesn't turn around. Fingers the wrinkled edge where it says 'Calvin Benson' in innocent handwriting.

"You kept it," he states simply.

Her eyes are on the floor and even if he can't see her, he knows.

"Yeah, I did," she whispers, and he hears the emotion in her voice.

"I'm sorry you couldn't keep him, Liv."

He turns and sees her there with her yoga pants and tank on, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. Her arms are crossed and she brushes off the emotion with a well measured breath.

"Yeah, well, things don't always work out like I'd like them to."

As if on cue, the doorbell rings and she sighs and walks towards the door to retrieve their food.

Two hours later, Olivia sits with her knees tucked onto his lap and head resting against his shoulder. Empty cartons litter the coffee table and the ending of the movie plays.

_"Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."_

And then it fades out and the credits start rolling and he's smiling because they've both seen it at least twice before but it's still one of his favorites. He knew she would pick that one, anyway.

Olivia hums a contented sigh against him and he's hyperaware of her movements now that the movie's ended. It's dark and silent and it envelopes them like a blanket he never wants to shed.

"I love that movie," she whispers and sighs at the same time, head resting on his shoulder and knees tucked up against him. He loves that she isn't moving from the way they're sitting. The warmth of her body against his is so comfortable and he can hear her breaths.

It's a beautifully quiet moment.

She shifts a tiny bit and glances up at him.

The sound and gentle vibrations of her quiet laughter is enough to make Elliot question what she's thinking.

"What's so funny?"

She laughs again and he wants to bottle up the perfect sound of it. He thinks it would make the perfect painkiller.

The perfect addiction.

Olivia sits up, and she's still laughing when her hands reach up to his stubble filled jaw and kiss him.

He's stunned at first, but she read his mind.

Her mouth presses against his and she's laughing softly against it and kissing him at the same time and it's sloppy and adorable and he loves it because now he's doing the same.

Eventually they're both smiling so hard that it becomes increasingly awkward to fit their lips together, so they rest their foreheads together and let their inherent happiness show clearly in their features.

He reaches up and cups her cheek, moves in to kiss her this time. His lips press gently against hers until he feels her respond, massaging his lips with hers.

It's all softness and warmth and he wants more. He cups her jaw lightly as he tilts his head to pry open her mouth a little.

Olivia understands his intent and allows his tongue to roam her mouth. Hers meets his and their kiss becomes deeper, heated.

She's not laughing anymore. Instead, her tongue massages his and the sounds of lips pulling at lips fill his ears. He pulls her closer by her waist, and their hips bump.

The goddamn tightness in his pants is ridiculous. All they're doing is kissing for fucksake.

But, God, Olivia makes it _so_ much more than 'just kissing'. She detaches her lips from his and swings one leg over his two so she's kneeling and straddling him.

He pulls her down so she's forced to sit directly on his straining erection, and fuck, she groans and rubs against him slightly. Enough to make him realize there's only a thin layer of her yoga pants and his sweatpants seperating him from being inside her.

He thinks he must be growling a little as he pulls her head in to crash his lips against hers once again. He licks his tongue across her lips, and she surprises him when she sucks his bottom lip into her mouth. She nips at it and soothes it with her delicious tongue and he knows he's toast. Damn her for being so sexy.

As they devour each other's mouths, Elliot unconsciously grinds against her core. She pulls back for air and a hearty moan escapes.

She's grinding down against him and he's so fucking turned on and so incredibly in love with the woman that he doesn't know which to focus on more.

"El," she says his name with heavy lids and and rosy cheeks.

He can't comprehend time or space or how the hell he ended up with Olivia sitting on his hard as hell dick, but he doesn't question the gods or the stars or whatever he should be questioning at the moment.

"Liv, you sure about this?" He asks her as he starts to kiss her neck.

"God, yes!" She answers with a shuddering moan.

He takes it back. This, this is going to be his addiction. The way her voice sounds so smooth and husky and half asleep and the way her moans sound when he kisses the tender flesh of her neck.

He thinks that he's breaking every rule he's ever set for himself, but he can't help but become addicted to her.

_All over again._

**A/N: So, I strongly apologize for the sporadic updating of this story. I've been very busy lately, but I hope this long-ish chapter and the next one will make up for it...**

**Don't be cheap with reviews; I appreciate it a lot when someone takes the time to give me some feedback!**

**Until next time!**


	10. Chapter 10

_He can't comprehend time or space or how the hell he ended up with Olivia sitting on his hard as hell dick, but he doesn't question the gods or the stars or whatever he should be questioning at the moment._

_ "Liv, you sure about this?" He asks her as he starts to kiss her neck._

_"God, yes!" She answers with a shuddering moan._

_He takes it back. This, this is going to be his addiction. The way her voice sounds so smooth and husky and half asleep and the way her moans sound when he kisses the tender flesh of her neck._

_He thinks that he's breaking every rule he's ever set for himself, but he can't help but become addicted to her._

_All over again._

/

Elliot's lips suck at her neck and she can't stop herself from rubbing down onto him, creating an aching friction that only gets more intense, more prominent, and harder to ignore. The truth is, she's loving it and it surprises her how easy it is to give in after all the time she's spent wondering what it'd be like.

Elliot's hands loosely grip the dip in her waist, rooted to the spot, not daring to move further yet, and she feels herself giving in, more, more, more, as he sucks on and kisses her neck and underneath her ear. She wants to shut her eyes, to soak it all in and feel nothing but Elliot's lips on her skin for the rest of forever. But, instead she tilts her head a little further to the left, bites back the sounds she wants to make, and lets her palms slip underneath his t-shirt onto the warm planes of his back and abs. He's muscular and solid against her. It's scary and familiar at the same time, and she thinks, _that's fitting._

His lips are hot and she feels every lingering breath against her skin as he all of a sudden trails back up her jaw to find her mouth. It's hard and invigorating, steals her breath right out of her lungs, and fuck, she realizes just how real this actually is. Here she is, minutes from fucking her former partner and she can feel the gears shifting as their lips fight and tongues are soft against each other.

His hands start to move upwards from her waist, and Olivia feels her heart speed up at the thought of where they're going.

She sighs into their kiss when his thumbs swipe across her nipples, and sees nothing wrong with grinding down with fervor onto the bulge in his pants, which she swears just got even firmer against her.

He does it once more before moving his palms back down and slipping them under the black material of her tank top, sliding it up her hips. Her skin erupts in goosebumps at the feel of his roughened palms flat against her.

She kisses him harder, bites down on his bottom lip and hears him groan. He smooths his hands up her sides and breaks contact for a second to look into her eyes.

His eyes calm her down and egg her on simultaneously, and she really wants her damned tank off so she reaches down and pulls it over her head in one swift motion.

She watches as his eyes rake across her newly exposed skin, linger on her ample chest and black bra and back up to her eyes.

But she's surprised when he leans in for a short kiss and his fingers tug at her tied up hair to let it loose, free. She shakes it out and he cups her face, breaks his mouth from hers and she realizes he is going to speak.

"Liv," Elliot's words reverberate directly into her mouth and it sends chills up her spine. He seems to be searching her eyes for something. "I need to know that if we do this, you won't run from me."

She feels herself get emotional, but shakes her head. She won't.

He keeps searching her face and their close proximity allows her to analyze the perfect pigmentation of his blue eyes.

"Do you trust me?"

She looks into his eyes, really looks into them and sees. As hard as it is for her to trust, it's hard for Elliot, too. They're both a little bit screwed up and scarred and they both have their demons, and the rush of feeling is overwhelming and she wants to scream because he really is the only person she trusts. She trusts him so much it frightens her, so much it physically keeps her awake on those restless, hopeless nights where she's alone and sad again, but Olivia knows that if she screws this one time up, there won't be another one.

_It_ scares her more.

"I trust you, El," Olivia tells him and her eyes are glassy looking into his.

Elliot presses his lips to hers, kisses her like he means it, and leans his mouth close to her ear.

"I trust you, too. Wrap your legs around me," he whispers in a gravelly tone and sucks on the skin under her ear.

Her heart flutters at his words but she complies and he lifts her up off the couch with her ankles firmly locked above his ass and arms loosely hanging around his neck. She's becoming increasingly aroused and shaky from the way Elliot's eyes roam her body like he can't fucking wait.

He lays her down onto the bed, and she scoots her elbows up so she can watch as he takes his shirt off in a fluid motion.

For a second after he deposits his shirt, she's just watching him watch her.

"You waiting for an invitation?" She smirks at him and he smiles and looks at her like she's a goddamned comedian.

She laughs as he shakes his head and shimmies off his sweats so he's just wearing these sexy as hell gray boxer briefs and a proud erection.

Olivia feels a rush of wetness and adrenaline, too, and she rubs her legs together in a barely noticeable attempt to relieve some of the aching. He smirks and she takes her bottom lip in between her teeth to restrain herself from groaning at his obvious length.

The bed dips under his weight, and then he's climbing over her body, wedging a thigh in between hers with palms flat against the mattress on either side of her torso.

She almost gasps when his thigh presses tightly against her through the thin material of her yoga pants, and his eyes burn into hers.

But she's not looking for a way out.

/

He feels Olivia pull him down so their bodies are pressed together and then it's a beautiful frenzy of lips and sweet sounds.

Elliot kisses his way down Olivia's torso, feels her tremble slightly when he pulls her yoga pants down her legs as she raises her hips to aid him.

He runs his hands back up her waist and behind her, unhooks her bra and tosses it to the side.

Olivia's staring from underneath him, and he can't breathe or think when her hands pull his head down to crash their lips together, rough and passionate. They both moan into the kiss when their chests connect and he feels her nipples scrape against his skin. He leans his head down to suck on her neck again, to hear that perfect sound rip from her throat another time and another. It sends his blood pounding further south and he moves to kiss the curve of her collarbone, her shoulder, before suckling on her breasts.

She arches into his mouth, moans his name. It sounds heavenly coming from Olivia's parted lips.

Elliot trails his left hand down the curve of her hip and toys with the thin fabric resting there, drags it down a little bit and slides the fingers of his left hand in to ghost over her slick folds.

She bucks up at the contact and he moves his lips back up to kiss her deeply and stare into her widening eyes at his next action.

/

Olivia feels her breath get lost in her throat when Elliot's index finger swipes her clit and slides inside of her. She moans into his mouth and he kisses her deeper, tries to swallow it up.

His right hand comes up to knead her breast as his finger continues to pump in and out of her. She moves her left leg up over his hip and the action causes the pad of his thumb to connect directly with her clit.

Fucking _hell_. She won't last if he keeps this up.

Olivia breaks her mouth off his, fully intending to tell him he needs to get his damned briefs off and get inside of her, but a loud groan involuntarily rips from deep inside of her throat when he adds another finger to the mix and twists, hitting that insanely perfect spot that leaves her wanting so much more, and fast.

She feels him smile against her ear, and he licks it.

"El," she attempts, "take your damned underwear off." Her breathing is choppy already. She's very aware of his length pressing up against her hip at the awkward angle he's at situated on top of her, but even more so of how close she is with only his fingers working on her.

He shakes his head and presses his lips softly to hers. "Not yet." She groans when he pumps his thick fingers faster into her. "Come for me first."

Christ.

She's no longer in control of her own body and it's a wonderful feeling, Elliot's body heat on top of her, his fingers inside of her, his lips all over her lips and neck and chest. He's _everywhere_. She surrenders to the feeling and fists the sheets hard when his digits twist inside of her because her senses are becoming muddled and heightened simultaneously. The sensations, they take over and she lets them.

/

He watches as Olivia comes undone underneath him, the beautifully blissful expression tugging at her features, the way her mouth parts and a soft moan escapes when her climax takes over, when her back comes off the bed and she clenches around his fingers. His own pleasure is hardly put on hold, because this, this is fucking beautiful.

He feels intrusive yet completely deserving, witnessing her in this vulnerable and exposed state, witnessing the utter poetry the woman is when she lets someone else take the reins for a little while.

The convulsing of her body dies down and her chest is rising and falling underneath his as he kisses Olivia again.

"You're beautiful," Elliot pulls back to look at her face and kisses her swollen lips some more.

And then he feels Olivia shifting her weight so she's partially on top of him. Her hands pull at the elastic of his briefs and she's got this transfixed expression on with that glow and heavy breathing about her when he realizes they're nowhere near done.

**A/N: Stay tuned, because Round 2 is up next! Give me some feedback, loveys! Anything is welcomed and appreciated. **


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